Got my moonstruck self to stay here forever
And the stars would not twinkle with latent fair
I hunt for the sweet gaze, the vivid smile
The nights all changed, but I am in moonshine
Ask not for the moon, so not for her sly fancy
As she stays awake, for midnight lunacy
Perhaps she is possessed, much confined in herself
Her mystical crotchet got trapped into a gray shelf
Therefore, she fakes thousand smiles in silver
Her midnights linger as nights in December
There she finds herself, howling at the moon
Waits for the spring zest, winter may end soon.
She may not be okay, as not as your sight
Hence she is ivy, her beauty is blight.